


Final Fantasy - ReBirth

by PaigeTheHarmonyLover



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VIII, Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-09-23 20:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9676049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaigeTheHarmonyLover/pseuds/PaigeTheHarmonyLover
Summary: Alone, brooding, but never vulnerable, Tifa Lockhart finds herself as far from her little village of Nibelheim as any can hope to be. When an incident within the Long Ear tavern finds her reunited with her wandering friend and his three companions, her lonely quest for peace is thrust head long into a world of danger, corruption and death.





	1. Bout of Respect

**FINAL FANTASY**  
**ReBirth**

_Book One  
_

The saloon of The Long Ear Tavern was not the ideal location any young woman wanted to find herself to be, and for Tifa Lockhart this grotty, grimy, little pub was by far from where she wanted to spend her evening, surrounded by people she had never known and had no business in knowing; their drunken words collecting together in a boozed-up gaggle of banter. All the while, despite this places disreputable reputation, Tifa still sat, quiet, sullen, and brooding with no one else but her own company. Which was exactly how she wanted it to remain.

Once, in a time that seemed almost like another’s life, Tifa would never have been sitting here, absently draining her bottle of hard, cut-price, scotch; liquor she would never have served in her own establishment. However, the sombre memories of the past did much to heighten the effects of her sorrow, and with that sobering notion, she poured herself another glass from the bottle and took a long swig of her firewater. Her eyes of Nibelheim crimson sifting distrustfully in every direction, brow lowered protectively over her whisky glass, seeking to blend as seamlessly amidst the shadows as was humanly possible.

She had already spotted three potential troublemakers.

One, a raven-haired, leather clad, man continued to drift his gaze towards her. He showed no visible weapon, but his powerful frame, and how he continued to check the gigantic Buster Sword that had been confiscated by the innkeeper, more than highlighted that this was his chosen form of arms.

The second was a woman, she of which sat at the table at the furthers wall of the saloon. Her waist-length, white leather, coat was open and loose, offering sight of rich garb and a lean, athletic frame. Her hair was a light roseate which suited her fine features, but her eyes had never left Tifa the moment she had entered the inn, and together the two women had engaged in a number of silent standoffs, each of which had resulted in an even stalemate.

However, it was the third Tifa liked the least.

He was tall, stationed upon a chair into which he reclined, legs stretched out upon the table, showing supple leather boots that were curiously fitted, as though they had seen much use. They were caked in dry mud which suggested a well-travelled man. His coat was of heavy black leather, very similar to the raven-haired man Tifa had also marked and of an identical style to the woman who continued to glare at her. Yet unlike the others, and despite the heat of the room, this man’s hood was throw up, concealing his face, and offering only a vague glimpse of a strong jaw and eyes which seemed to, almost, glow from within the shadows of his cowl.

Tifa bristled irrepressibly as she felt her eyes meet those of this man, spotting the distinct sign of trouble. With a fleeting sweep of her gaze, so the lone woman registered the sight she had previously been too low to truly see. Now, Tifa knew she was in trouble. Each of these three, the trio who continued to make her uncomfortable, bore the distinct sign of Mako infusion, the dazzling azure blue of Shinra SOLDIER program.

She needed to get out of here and qui-

“Hey, babe,” a drawling, crotch led jock swung himself in the seat opposite Tifa’s table, drawing out the unoccupied chair and straddling it arrogantly as he knocked back a mouthful of beer from a bottle. “Wha’s a pretty thing like you doing ‘ere all alone?”

Tifa had no time for this fool. Without acknowledgement, she made to stand from her seat, only for two thick hands to grasp her shoulders tight, and force her back down into her chair. Tifa grunted at the force used to subdue her, craning her neck to see a second, barrel-chested, brute leer into her face from across her shoulder. Tifa struggled, her strength surprising to the thickly built goon, but his buddy merely laughed, stupidly, as his eyes drifted appreciatively across Tifa’s well-bloomed body.

“Now, now, don’ be like dat love,” the man’s accent was southern, maybe Lucis, or one of her regions? “A sexy little number like you needs a little _manpower_ about you. Tell ya what you wrap those sexy legs of yours around me an’ my buddy tonight, an we’ll see dat no harm comes your way.”

Tifa scoffed at this man’s pathetic proposal. This fool was most certainly a Lucian, those wastes from the capital always thought most highly of themselves. However, no matter where this guy hailed from she had no intention of sharing any more of her oxygen with this guy or anyone else.

“Excuse me, sir?” A light, sultry, voice suddenly resounded from off to the side, drawing the man’s attention away from Tifa. The crimson eyed lass turned her gaze to see the rose haired woman she had been glaring at come and stand beside the table, hips cocked, eyes bright with flirtation. The Lucian looked as though the Yule day festival had come much more swiftly.

“Aye, pretty lady?” Questioned the Lucian. Tifa grimaced as the woman wound one of her long, lean legs over the man’s frame and straddled his lap as intimately as a lover would before… ‘Playtime’. The man who held Tifa down in the chair suddenly loosened his grip, clearly stunned by this unbelievable bout of good fortune. The woman looked back over her shoulder, and winked at Tifa.

“It’s not nice to treat a lady like a piece of meat.” The woman struck with the swiftness of a viper. Launching her head forward, her forehead struck the man’s face in a vicious, brutal, headbutt. Tifa took the cue, launching herself up, thrusting her chair back with her legs so the frame shunted back and struck her captor hard in the core. The Lucian the woman had headbutted wailed in pain, the woman launching herself off of him and up into empty air. She turned a summersault and landed on her feet atop of the table only a minute ago, Tifa had been sitting at.  
  
Liberated, Tifa drove her elbow deep into the barrel-chested man’s gut, swinging down her left with an overhand punch and crashing her fist hard into his jaw. It shattered as easily as glass. Tifa may be alone, but she was far from defenceless. A lifetime of conflict had given her a particular set of skills, skills that made her a nightmare for people like these boozed up drunks.

Catching the guy in a clinch Tifa drove her knee up into his face, a smile of satisfaction beautified her face as she felt the bastard's nose shattered upon impact. A crimson geyser shot forth from his nostrils, staining his chin and jetting out to soil the filth-ridden floor.

The saloon erupted into chaos.

Grabbing the fools coat over his head, Tifa manipulated the man so that he offered a physical shield between herself and the number of new foes who advanced upon her. She struck hard at the man’s knees and ankles with stiff, digging kicks. The man buckled, easy pickings before Tifa slammed her elbow into his neck and sent him sprawling to the floor, immobile.

Lifting her guard, two men tried to engage Tifa, one, a thuggish, crimson bearded, goon roared and lunged.

  
_Wham!_

  
A fist crashed into him from out of nowhere, breaking his face and sending him crashing backwards.

  
Tifa wheeled, seeking to sight the person who had taken out this guy so efficiently and felt her heart soar with recognition.

  
The fight was over soon after.

  
Stationed atop the table she had leapt upon, the rosy-haired woman dove forth into the air, body spiralling in a twisting display of flamboyance, before her legs curled around the neck of a secondary attacker. Her body coiled, legs whipping him across the room and tossing him head over heels into the air, herself landing nimbly on her hands and knees, azure eyes bright with the thrill of combat.  
Realising that these women were too good to be beaten physically, a number of the brutes, who were now fighting more for pride than any real sense of camaraderie, gathered up whatever weapon they could: beer bottles, pool cues, even the odd chair or debris that had been created from the fight.

The woman smiled and threw back her coat, exhibiting a beauteous belt of silver and gold augmented with glowing orbs of Materia. Wisps of Mako lifted up from deep within the orbs, creeping tendrils of power through and about her body, crawling up her frame in a flickering display, halting the advancing thugs as they sighted the glowing, luminescent strands collecting in a ball of energy in the woman’s right hand.

“Lightning…” A strong, masculine, voice resounded from amidst the chaos of the saloon, ceasing the look of pleasure on the face of Lightning, and causing her to grasp onto the ball of Mako she was about to unleash on this place.

The raven-haired man, who in truth had not moved from his position at the bar as the fight had commenced, strolled forth with a look of open disapproval. At his back was now placed his gigantic Buster Sword, a secondary weapon, a folded, advanced Gunblade held in its holster looking as beauteous and majestic as the woman he addressed.

“Stand down…” Lightning glared at the man, her friend, commander, and more. Zack Fair shook his head slightly, seeking to calm the bloodlust that had claimed her. It looked as though she might break and unleash the force of her Materia.

  
But the dazzling blue light flickered, sparkled, and faded from her grasp.


	2. Parting Words

The innkeeper expressed his deepest of apologies when Tifa had addressed the most outrageous behaviour of his regulars and expressed her reasoning for her own unacceptable actions in the act of her own apology. Though she quickly understood that matters such as this, though not quite as insulting or chauvinistic as those which had evoked this brawl, were but one of the many incidents that had taken place within The Long Ear Tavern only that week.

Though she had offered to pay for the damages she, and no one else, had caused, the innkeeper merely scoffed and stated that because of the high frequency of fights taking place at least once a day here, he had needed to devise a new means of dealing with his broken furniture. Thus, he had taken to carpentry to not only repair his fixtures, but as a means of dealing with the stresses of owing the only tavern in the ruddy streets of Sprohm.

Tifa thanked the innkeeper with a kindly word and a blessing, turning to see that only she and a few timid drunks were left within the ruination of the tavern. Her brow furrowed at the thought of abandonment, mostly from the one man in all of Eos she spent some three months searching for.

Placing a few Gil on the bar counter, Tifa hastened her stride, stepping out to see the three warriors of SOLDIER crowded around a classic ’67 Impala. She had to stop them from leaving.

“Cloud…!” Tifa called out to the man that, once, had been her greatest and dearest friend. The golden-haired SOLDIER paused, his door to the Impala open, but his hand resting on the frame of the classic vehicle’s roof.

“What’s the deal, Cloud? You coming?” Zack asked, slipping behind the wheel of the car and peering forth from within the Impala. Tifa hurried towards the trio of warriors, Cloud’s always messy hair as spiked and dishevelled now as it had been in boyhood. But the sullen lilt to his shoulders, his cold, brooding stance told Tifa that this was no longer the sweet, innocent, little boy she had cherished in Nibelheim. 

“Give me a minute.” Cloud requested of Zack, the raven-haired SOLDIER looking beyond his associate to see the ample beauty who addressed his friend. Her beauty, which would have charmed any available man, drew only the most fleeting glance of appreciation, though his eyes soon left her to look up at Cloud.

“Five minutes… no longer, understand?” Stated Zack. Cloud nodded, sealed his door to the Impala, and turned to face his childhood friend.

“What do you want, Tifa?” Cloud demanded, his voice a low, husky, drawl as he cocked his head in observance of her. Tifa frowned, tossing back her knee length hair like a brunet spray.

“I…” for more than ten years Tifa had waited to see him, to speak to him, to tell him how deeply she had missed him since he had left Nibelheimto join Shinra’s SOLDIER program. But now, hearing this cold, emotionless enquiry, she found now that she had non words to say. Tifa lowered her gaze, massaging her knuckles which had been split when her fist had collided with that bastard’s jaw. Her skin was rough and conditioned, many hours of training, and many more bouts, causing her flesh to toughen up with every punch she had thrown. Fitting really, considering the man who now stood before her.

Tifa swallowed the lump that was constricting her throat, and lifted her gaze to look at him.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Cloud asked, brow furrowed and seemingly stunned by her words.

“For taking out that guy back there. You always said you’d be there to help me.”

Something flickered in Cloud’s azure eyes and the ghost of a smile touched the edges of his pale lips.

“I…” The sound of the Impala’s horn resounded over his words.

“Yo Strife, time!” Zack called out to Cloud, signalling that his five minutes were up, it couldn’t have been more than three. Turning the golden-haired warrior gestured his understanding, before turning back to his friend. She stood, alone, shadowed, and beautiful. He longed to stay, to talk, to rebuild the friendship he had left Nibelheim in the hopes of reinforcing their bond. Yet now he saw that it had only succeeded in pushing them apart.

“Cloud!” Zack yelled in a tone that spoke of no further delay. 

“I’m sorry… I got to…” 

“Yeah…” Tifa responded, understanding his words, as she always had, even now, with the weight of a decade between them, he still could not finish his parting words. 

“Where are you going?” Tifa asked, speaking more in the hope of finding him again. Cloud Strife may be a SOLDIER, but here was one woman who could give his wanderings a real test. 

“Rubrum…” Cloud breathed, low and hushed. Tifa tried to conceal her surprise. The dominion of Rubrum was in chaos, the Milites Empire recently declaring war on the Vermilion Crystal-Nation. Was it for liberty, or conquest that found these three SOLDIERS making haste there? She knew not what reasoning found her friend travelling headlong into war, but as Cloud sealed the door to the Impala, their eyes meeting one last time before Zack fired up the engine, the wheels screeching as the vehicle took off, Tifa was determined to find out. 


	3. Road of Destiny

The ’67 Impala sped forth along the road leading its occupants onward, headlong into war. Stationed in the seat opposite Zack Fair, Cloud Strife remained locked in a duel within his own mind. His heart ached to leave Tifa alone and without answers to questions he knew she wanted to ask. Hell, he had a great deal of unsaid wishes he longed to inform her of too. However, duty and the lure of war had forced the former SOLDIER into action, and now, with his three closest companions for company, he found all he wanted was to return to Sprohm and converse with his childhood friend.

“So, who’s the broad?” questioned Zack his eyes centred on the road, but his lips twitching at his own jest. In the back of the Impala Lightning’s brow furrowed at the use of this derogatory term. Lightning had come to understand their leaders means of humour and although she knew it was just a means of conversation, this did not stop the daggers she shot towards him in her gaze. Their eyes met in the reflection of the rear-view mirror, Zack winked at her, eyes brightening as he held up a hand in acceptance of her silent chastisement. Cloud, however, merely turned towards his own side of the car, arm crutched against the open window of the Impala and remained silent. Brooding.

“Guess she was someone important,” Lightning stated, her voice issuing in in quiet, serious, tone.

Nothing, cold, hard, silence. Zack snorted dryly.

“Come on Cloud, level with us, yeah? We need your head in the game. We can’t have you focused on those assists when a sword is coming at you. Spill it.” Cloud’s brow furrowed at Zack’s now more than sensible statement. He was right, the golden-haired SOLDIER had too much on his mind. Such distractions made him a liability on the battlefield. Cloud let loose a breath and began to speak.

OoOoO

The downcast eyes of the men of Sprohm looked towards Tifa with a measure of damaged pride and haunting fear. It was a gaze she was accustom to. Blessed with a more than acceptable countenance and a body that garnered to much attention, Tifa had needed to learn how to handle such hands-on jerks like the guys whose asses she had kicked in the tavern. Now, stationed upon an ancient, stone, horses troth, her boot struck a loose stone to send it skittering across the dirt of the road.

She had just let him leave. After nearly a decade of longing all she had done was let Cloud walk right out of her life again. Maybe she was just a friend to him? Had Cloud not wanted to talk to her? He seemed so cold in his words, the sweet dreamer she had felt so deeply for replaced by the icy, stone faced warrior.

Yet, despite all her reasoning that he had changed, Tifa knew that beneath those walls, within those cold, ice blue, eyes, she knew the true Cloud was in there somewhere. Her Cloud, her friend, her desire, her hero.

Rubrum… Her mind centred on the war-torn nation, the place Cloud and his fellow warriors rushed towards.

If Cloud marched to war… Then Tifa was going to be on the battlefield beside him.

Erupting from her seat, Tifa pulled free her ring of keys from her suspenders. Dusting off her hands, pulling on her fingerless metal knuckle gloves. Her Hilux truck waited at the side of the Long Ear Tavern. Old, impenetrable, reliable, this little beauty had been Tifa’s steed on her journey to reunite with her childhood friend. Now, slamming the door hard, Tifa started the engine.

The Hilux roared, her radio started. The song was a random one, found on her number of different music she enjoyed. She revved the engine, popped the clutch and slammed the truck in gear.

The beast thundered, Tifa slammed the accelerator and tore from the parking bay. The nose of the Hilux clipped the stone wall of one of the villagers wall, shattering it in her haste to leave, but leaving little other than a scuff of paint on her vehicle.

Tifa left Sprohm in a roar of thunder and the back draft of burning petroleum, much to the relief of the men who would massage their bruised egos with tales of a man kicking their asses, but Tifa could care less about their meaningless glorification. Right now, she was on a mission, a mission to reunite with her friend, to honour the promise she had silently made to Cloud the night they had talked on-top of the Nibelheim water tower.

The singer on her radio offered her inspiration, her voice a strong, rhythmic, residence filled with power and passion. Tifa shifted the Hilux into a swift cruse, whipping her mouth of nerves, she was crazy, she was stupid… she was in love; and when you are in love you do stupid things. Now Tifa Lockhart was charging headlong into a warzone, a smile crossed her lips and listened to her music, itself seemingly edging her further and further into her spell of love-struck madness.

_I had to escape, the city was sticky and cruel_   
_Maybe I should have called you first_   
_But I was dying to get to you_   
_I was dreaming while I drove_   
_The long straight road ahead_   
_Uh-huh, yeah_   
_Could taste your sweet kisses, your arms open wide_   
_This fever for you was just burning me up inside…_

Tifa smiled at the irony of the song, slamming her foot harder on the accelerator and forcing more pace into her truck. She agreed with the lyrics, Nibelheim had been cruel to her, she was dying to reunite with Cloud, to have some semblance of the life she had longed for since childhood. Now, dreaming why she drove, her Hilux was her steed in her own tale.

_I drove all night to get to you_   
_Is that all right?_   
_I drove all night, crept in your room_   
_Woke you from your sleep to make love to you_   
_Is that all right?_   
_I drove all night_

A light blush touched her cheeks at the lyrics ‘Woke you from your sleep to make love to you’. That was something Tifa had only dreamed of. In her years of waiting in Nibelheim suiters had been not in the least bit lacks. Her father had even accepted a dower from the Mayor to wed Tifa to his eldest son. An act that had resulted in this induced exile from her hometown. Tifa had no intention of marrying anyone, be it the Mayor’s son or even the great hero Sephiroth himself. Her heart, her love was for one man, and despite a generous dower and the prospects of power, riches or authority were meaningless to her.

She had left Nibelheim in disgrace, the prize of the town fleeing to pursue a, seemingly, meaningless romance. Cloud’s cold nature returned to her, his icy stare, his cold shoulder. A look of determination filled Tifa’s face and she punched the clutch and sped forth on the road to destiny.


End file.
